Healing Wounds
by LovelyLace
Summary: "Love is found when you least expect it." Chase x OMC. MxM. Slash. Gay. You've been warned.


Healing Wounds

_Disclaimer: I don't own House. Obviously. _

_Pairing: Chase x OMC_

Chapter 1

And once again Chase had been sent to do House's "dirty work" for him. It took him forever to just get all the way to the patients apartment building and lets just say, now, that he was here, he really wanted to leave. He, contrary to what Foreman thought, was not a pansy...but this place seemed to be riddled with guys willing to stab him for his coat alone everywhere he looked, and he, unfortunately, stuck out like a sore thumb. The stabbers weren't even the ones that really had him wanting to run back to House and beg him to send someone else, it was the one's eying him like he was a piece of meat. Now those, he wasn't hesitant to admit scared the crap out of him.

But, he still had a job to do and although he considered just turning around and walking back to his car, considered it for quite a while even deciding what excuse he'd give House and Foreman, if the black man tried to give him a hard time of it. The bottom line was...Chase was too damn responsible to just blow this off.

Plus, he kind of liked their patient. She had...spunk?

Still neither of these things could quite get rid of that voice in the back of his head telling him to run before all the people eying him decided to pounce.

He literally sighed in relief when he finally found the right building. He'd been sure the place was on this block, he'd just had to find it, so he'd parked his car on the corner, triple checked the locks and proceeded to walk down the block until he'd finally come across the right one.

"Hey, you with the FBI?" Chase looked down at the small child in front of him in surprise—when had he gotten there?-and shook his head. The boy shrugged and walked around him, not sparing the Aussie another glance.

Chase didn't think much of it, though, and continued on his way towards the fifth floor, by stair. Apparently, elevators were nonexistent in this building. Still, it was fairly easy for Chase to find the apartment once he was at the fifth floor, eighteen minutes later and slightly out of breath.

He didn't bother to knock. The patient had informed him she lived alone in a flirtatious conversation between the two. He'd taken the advancements as jokes and he was sure she had meant them as such, but he'd assumed she actually did live on her own, considering that she'd received no visits since her hospitalization three days ago.

He was proven wrong when he used the key he'd picked from the patients personals and pushed the door open to find a young man standing in front of the door as if he'd been about to go out, a glass jar of what looked like mold of some sort in his hands.

"Um..." Chase stuttered out, unsure of what to say. "...I'm Dr. Chase."

The younger mans pierced brow raised in question. "Thieves don't usually give their names. Or have PhD's for that matter." A smirk. A wink. And Chase found himself blushing.

"Uh, I'm not a thief. I have a key." He declared and raised the key to the others eye level as if to prove what he'd said.

"How'd you get that?" The man questioned, now looking at Chase through narrowed eyes, before they clouded with understanding. "You're q friend of my sisters?"

"Elizabeth Ward, you mean?" Chase questioned. It made sense.

"Yeah...?"

Shit. He was never very good at notifying the families and friends. Usually, the patient did that for them, which Chase had always seen as a benefit to the job. But now...

"Um, I'm sorry...Eliza has been hospitalized. She's in intense care."

The only thing Chase could concentrate on was the sound of glass shattering as it hit the ground and a distinctly musky smell, before he was being pushed out the door.

"Shit!" The brother yelled after speeding out the door right after Chase and pulling his jacket off. Stuffing the jet black sports jacket into the crack just beneath his door.

"What's going on?" Chase asked alarmed as he watched the scene unfold.

"Call the PCC!"

"The Poison Control Center...?"

"Now, Dr. Chase!" And Chase had no time to get over his shock before his hand was grabbed and he was pulled towards the stairs, dialing with his unoccupied hand and somehow managing to keep himself upright.


End file.
